


Listen to the Darkness

by starsandauras



Series: The World's a Beast of a Burden [9]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Autistic Meltdown, Carbuncles as Service Animals, Certain chapters are an AU, Character on the Autism Spectrum, Character with ADHD, Coffee, Cooking, Courtship, Crack, Discussion of Drink Tampering, Dragoon problems, First Meetings, Found Family, Gardens & Gardening, Grief/Mourning, Homemaking, Honeymoon, Kid Fic, Linguistics, Meet-Cute, Multi, Multiple Warriors of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Parent Death, Patch 3.5: The Far Edge of Fate Spoilers, Patch 4.4: Prelude in Violet Spoilers, Patch 4.5: A Requiem For Heroes Spoilers, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Relationship Issues, Tumblr: FFXIVwrite2019, Use of In-Game Dialogue, Well almost, Will's Accent, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic, caffeine high, childhood illness, lots and lots of names, playful bickering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-11-09 11:55:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 13,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20853029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandauras/pseuds/starsandauras
Summary: Fills for #FFXIVWrite2019, once again featuring the dysfunctional O'Donnell Warriors of Light, their friends, families, alternative universe relationships, and adventures. One chapter will be updated daily through the month, tags will be updated accordingly. See table of contents for specific pairings, content, and spoiler warnings.CERTAIN CHAPTERS HAVE VARIOUS LEVELS OF SHADOWBRINGERS SPOILERS. THESE CHAPTERS WILL BE MARKED.





	1. Table of Contents

**1\. Table of Contents**  
(You are here!)

**2\. A Night in the Library**  
(Pre-Arthur/Matsu. First meetings in the library.)

**3\. Barter System**  
(Gen. Hereward wasn't always a horrible father, though Brigid was always a sickly child.)

**4\. Finding Direction**  
(AU, Pre-Brigid/Iolaire. Features a friend's Warrior of Light, Iolaire Argentum. First meetings in the Limsa markets because someone can't navigate the maze that is Limsa Lominsa.)

**5\. The Blame Game**  
(Light Brigid/Thancred. One of them is responsible for destroying Llewellyn's healing supplies. But which one?)

**6\. Vault is a Verb Too**  
(AU. Brigid/Iolaire. The return of Iolaire, reminders that Vault isn't just that horrible event in Heavensward.)

**7\. Happy Babies**  
(Gen. Baby Brigid and William. Pure fluff.)

**8\. Forgiven Child**  
**SHADOWBRINGERS SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN'T BEATEN THE 79 TRIAL**  
(Gen. When events conspire to rob a child of any chance they could have had at life.)

**9\. Changing Borders**  
(Araki/Arthur/Matsu. Arthur has issues with being touched. Sometimes they aren't so bad.)

**10\. A Moment of Pause**  
**SHADOWBRINGERS SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN'T BEATEN THE 73 TRIAL**  
(Brigid/Thancred. The aftermath of their first real fight. Thancred figures he really rather deserves it.)

**11\. Growth**  
(Gen. Flowers growing in places unexpected.)

**12\. Up to Speed**  
**SHADOWBRINGERS SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN'T BEATEN THE 73 TRIAL**  
(Referenced Brigid/Thancred. Follows directly after _A Moment of Pause_. Brigid talks with Minfilia and offers to train her properly.)

**13\. Idiots**  
(AU. Pre-Brigid/Iolaire. Estinien and Will are really rather sick of watching these two courting. Especially since Bri doesn't even realize it.)

**14\. Dinner**  
(Llewellyn/Sammy. Sammy prepares for dinner.)

**15\. Medical Assistive Carbuncle**  
(Araki/Arthur/Matsu. Arthur is determined to make a service carbuncle.)

**16\. Pie Making**  
(Araki/Arthur/Matsu. They let Araki cook. It didn't go terribly?)

**17\. Discovering Coffee**  
(Llewellyn/Sammy, referenced Araki/Arthur/Matsu. Araki and Sammy discover coffee. Llewellyn discovers them.)

**18\. The Archbishop's Summons**  
(AU. Brigid/Iolaire. Why did they make Brigid the unofficial face of the Warriors of Light, again?)

**19\. Blossoms**  
(AU. Pre-Brigid/Iolaire. Follows _Idiots_. Brigid completely misses the point of that bouquet Iolaire gave her.)

**20\. What's in a Name**  
(Brigid/Thancred. Discussion of Bri's names.)

**21\. Sharing is Caring**  
(Gen. Baby Bri and Will didn't always get along.)

**22\. Another Home**  
**SPOILERS FOR 4.5**  
(Gen, with reference to the Brigid/Iolaire AU. Ishgard is home.)

**23\. Grieving**  
(Gen. Content warning for grieving the death of a parent. Connor grieves.)

**24\. Honeymoon Night**  
(AU. Brigid/Iolaire. Newlyweds being all sappy.)

**25\. Hair Washing**  
**SPOILERS FOR 4.4 AND 4.5**  
(Brigid/Thancred. Two times Brigid washes Thancred's hair.)

**26\. Broken Trust**  
(Referenced Brigid/Thancred. An awkward talk with the Hext sister.)

**27\. We've Really Been Drugged Way Too Much in This Game**  
(Referenced Brigid/Thancred. Content warning for discussion of drink tampering. Reflections on... well, what it says on the tin.)

**28\. Droning On and On and On...**  
**SHADOWBRINGERS SPOILERS UP TO END OF MSQ**  
(Referenced Brigid/Thancred. Cracky as hell. Dialog only. The things that Brigid actually believes about the Ascians. Or one in particular.)

**29\. Home Point**  
(AU. Brigid/Iolaire. Those Eternity Rings are really quite handy.)

**30\. A Bad Mood**  
(Araki/Arthur/Matsu. Arthur is in a really bad mood.)

**31: Return**  
**SHADOWBRINGERS SPOILERS UP TO END OF MSQ**  
(Brigid/Thancred. Kisses under starlight.)


	2. A Night in the Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 1: Voracious

One of the things Arthur loved so much about studying at the Arcanists’ Guild was the library. It was gigantic, at least to his eyes, with many neatly organized subjects from Hannish cookery to Ishgardian romance novels.

Not that he knew anything about _those_, of course.

The library was made even better by his new eyeglasses, rectangular frames to contrast his rounder face and with thin frames. While he had certainly loved reading before the Guild, he had very much _not_ loved all but burying his face in the pages in order to actually see the words he practically devoured despite the trouble of doing so. It had been very confusing when he had been taken to the side and asked where his glasses were within the first week of his time at the Guild, but it had certainly explained a great deal of things.

It was where he spent most of his time, more often a walking pile of books than a young man, and he had become very well known amongst the many librarians that worked in the building. Especially the night librarians, as that was when he most liked the library. “I like when I’m alone,” he explained once to the Raen night librarian over a pot of tea in her office, a book of Doman poetry opened comfortably in his lap. She had smiled and offered him a sugar cookie, which he happily took.

Soon enough he found the rental restrictions lifted for himself, though he rarely took advantage of the situation. When he did he only went over by a single book, and was always apologetic for having done so. It didn’t seem to matter how many times he had been told that as long as the books were back on time it was fine, and soon the staff simply accepted his apologies. Most of the time though, he stayed in the library as he read his selections.

There was one night where he set up at his usual desk, lit lamp at the corner and well out of the way of anything it could be knocked into. Arthur had been taking notes, fingers spattered with black ink as he did, and he reached out with his clean hand to find… empty air. He blinked, surprised that he had apparently run out of books. Well, he thought as he wiped his dirty fingers as clean as he could, he would simply have to gather more.

He collected the ones he had already finished, settling them neatly at the book return station, and returned to the stacks, enjoying the echo of his footsteps and the scent of old books. He made his selections, an assortment of books on aetherotheory, and paused in front of the cookery section. He knew his cooking was terrible, but it was still interesting to read about technique and theory. He took a breath, bit his lip, and after a moment squared his shoulders as he strode down the aisle, pretending to be as confident as he actually was during his aetherophysics classes.

Soon enough he was intently studying the titles in front of him, unsure what to pick until coming across a book on the Hingan tea ceremony. It was a thin volume, tucked snugly between a two volume set on the history of Ishgardian patisserie. It was clearly out of place, and something about that tugged at him.

He reached out, and he was met not with leather but with a pale hand with equally pale scales on the back. He quickly jerked his hand back and looked over, surprised that someone had apparently snuck up on him. He was greeted with a Raen Au Ra that was _not_ the night librarian; a young man that appeared to be close to his own age, and he noticed that the other had dark purple eyes with light purple limbal rings before he quickly shifted his own eyes to focus on the scales on the bridge of the Raen’s nose.

_He’s cute,_ a distant part of his mind thought, and he pushed it away. Instead he lowered his head, and murmured “I’m sorry.”

He caught sight of a small smile before looking down to the floor. “You were here first,” the Raen said, voice soft and quiet, and Arthur got the feeling it wasn’t just because they were in a library. “I believe you have ‘dibs,’ as they say.” There was a bit of a laugh in his words, and for a moment Arthur was afraid it was directed at him. Then the book entered his field of vision and he finally looked up again, eyes once again focusing on the scales on the bridge of the other’s nose. “Here.”

He took it, trying not to flinch when their fingers brushed. “Thank you,” he forced out, fingers tightening around the book as though his life depended upon it. He inhaled again before blurting out “There aren’t any Raen students my age.”

Arthur’s sheer humiliation when he realized what he said almost drowned out the laugh from the other man. “I’m not a student,” he explained. “I’m keeping my cousin company.” He reached out and pulled a book from the stacks, holding it under his arm casually. “She’ll be wondering where I am. Don’t stay up too late.”

And with that the Raen walked away, leaving Arthur absolutely confused at what had just happened and somewhat relieved to be alone again. He tucked the book into the stack he had collected and went back to his desk, resolving to push the incident out of his mind. It was an hour later before he pressed his face into his hands, cursing himself.

The Raen had been cute, seemed nice, and _Arthur had completely forgotten to get his name._


	3. Barter System

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 3: Bargain

Brigid coughed into her da’s neck, held securely in his arms. She liked that, he was big and strong and would keep her safe.

“Yer lass sick ‘gain, Hereward?” the shopkeep asked as her da studied the produce on offer. “Shuld take ‘er by th’ barbers’, ye know.”

Her da shrugged, and she whimpered as she moved with his shoulders. She heard him make a soothing sound as he stroked her hair with his free hand. “Cannae ‘ford it,” he grumbled, and the soft vibration of his voice soothed her further. “Ye ‘ave any marjoram?”

Brigid wrinkled her nose even as she coughed more. She _hated_ the marjoram tea, it was nasty and tasted _green_. She didn’t think anything could taste like a color before their mother decided to try that. “Icky…”

“Ah ken, ocean dear,” he murmured, holding her tighter. “But yer cough gaes ‘way wi’ it.” She groaned again and he laughed softly. The shopkeep handed her da a bottle of it, and he winced at the price. “Five ‘undred gil? Fer an onze an’ a half?” The shopkeep shrugged and her da sighed. “Any peppermint? Or marshmallow root?”

“L’ke marshm’llow…” Brigid murmured, and the shopkeep laughed.

“Aye, but nay much lower in price,” they said, shrugging. A small pang of guilt laced through Brigid, being of an age now to know that gil was important and that she made them spend a lot of it that they couldn’t spare because she kept getting sick.

Her da sighed again and shook his head. “Ye’re needin’ yer wagon axle mended, aye? Ah’ll take care o’ tha’ if ye’ll drop th’ price on th’ marshmallow root tae three ‘undred?”

“Cannae go much lower than four ‘undred, Hereward,” they said lowly. “Ah’m sorry, but…”

Brigid’s lungs chose that moment to go into a coughing fit, small body shaking from the force of the barking coughs as she clenched her fists into her da’s shirt. She felt lightheaded once it finally ended, breathing in quick, shallow gasps. She dimly heard her da say the shopkeep’s name, but it didn’t settle in her mind.

They sighed, and Brigid could tell they were exasperated. “Fix th’ axle rod, look at my sister’s alchemist forge, and yer wife mend my nets, and Ah’ll lower th’ marshmallow tae three ‘undred and add in th’ marjoram fer free.”

Brigid tuned out as they finalized the sale, feeling stuffy and warmer than she should as the day went on. She eventually felt her da press his lips to her forehead and he sighed again. “Me ocean dear,” he murmured, and she felt them start the walk home. “Ah said ye shuld stay wi’ Mum.”

She clenched her fists tighter in his shirt, shaking her head weakly. “Wan’ stay wi’ ye…” she murmured. “Feel better…”

His hand rubbed up and down her back and laughed softly. “Such a da’s lass ye are,” he said fondly.

“‘Cause Da’s th’ best…”

“An’ always will be,” he agreed, and they fell silent the rest of the way home, only broken by Brigid’s coughing.


	4. Finding Direction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 3: Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Features the OC of my friend Bix (corbix.tumblr.com), Iolaire (ee-oh-lair) Argentum. This and all chapters featuring him are part of the For the Dancing and the Dreaming AU. Basically the same shit, just Bri's paired with him instead of Thancred and Will's the only brother tagging along.
> 
> Enjoy!

No matter what some said about Limsa Lominsa, to most of those newly arrived to the city, it was an _outright maze_ of a place. Long sprawling catwalks, ropes strung this way and that, and far too many shadows for the more unsavory kind to hide in. Perhaps to her residents Limsa was welcoming, but to visitors? She seemed content to keep her secrets, like an Ishgardian maiden hidden away from the outside world.

The Elezen turned his map this way and that, wondering for a moment if it had been worth the price he had paid for it, before looking up at the area around him. He was fresh from the airship landing and already utterly _lost_. He should have expected this, he knew he should have, and yet. He sighed and balled it up, shoving it in his travel pack along with his packages that he’d been tasked to deliver.

The rustle of skirts caught his ear and he looked over his shoulder to see a young woman, clad in the local clothes (which meant a great deal of skin was on display, at least from his perspective) with a bundle in her arms walk past him. “Ah, excuse me, miss..?”

The woman turned around, blood red hair falling over her shoulders and around pointed ears. Her eyes swept over him in a quick, appraising glance, and her lips set in a pout. “I’m bein’ off the clock, ser,” she said shortly, hefting the bundle in her arms. It looked to be yalms of various fabrics, as well as a ball or two of yarn.

It took him a moment before a rush of pink appeared under the white face paint that adorned his cheekbones. _Oh Menphina,_ he realized, _she was a _working girl. “Forgive me miss,” he said haltingly, bowing to her. “I seek not your services, but your assistance.” Her shoulders (which were far too bare in his opinion) lowered slightly but she still watched him warily.

“Aye, ‘tis it you’re needin’ then?” she asked, and he found himself carried along the rolling of her voice before he had to forcibly jerk himself away from it.

“I have a shipment of tomes bound for the Arcanists’ Guild,” he explained, hefting his travel pack in illustration. “Being newly arrived, however…”

“The poor Sharlayan’s gone and gotten himself lost,” she finished, nodding to herself.

He chuckled lightly, his hand coming up to brush at his hair only to be stopped by the hood of his robes, hiding the nasty scar still healing over his eye as best he could. He absently noticed she had a similar one and wondered just as absently as to the origin. “I’m afraid so. If you could simply point me in the proper direction..?” he trailed off hopefully, a smile kicking up at the corner of his mouth as she laughed softly.

“‘Tis set up so well and you lot are always havin’ trouble anyway,” she murmured. She glanced around quickly before raising her hand to point down the markets. “Just keep goin’ ‘long the markets ‘til you’re comin’ to the Guild. If you’re hittin’ the ferryman, you’re goin’ too far and needin’ to be doublin’ back a wee bit. Should be havin’ an aethernet shard out front.”

He bowed again, his smile growing. “My thanks, miss…?”

She smiled as well, arms coming back to hold her bundle properly. “Be callin’ me Bri, ser..?”

“Iolaire,” he supplied after a moment, unable to come up with anything else on the spot, dipping his head respectfully. “My thanks, Miss Bri.”

She waved him off, finally relaxing fully. “Nay bein’ a problem, Ser Iolaire. Dinnae you be gettin’ any more lost now, willnae be there to be helpin’ you find your way ‘gain.” A quick curtsy of her own and she set off in the other direction, deep blue skirts swishing until she was out of earshot.

Perhaps getting lost wasn’t quite a horrible thing, he decided as set out on his appointed path.


	5. The Blame Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 4: Shifting Blame

“Llewellyn’s going to kill us.”

Brigid looked over at Thancred, eyebrow raised. “‘Tis this ‘us’ you’re talkin’ ‘bout? I’m the wee sister, nay anythin’ happenin’ to _me_.”

They both looked over the disaster zone that had once been Llewellyn’s healing kit. Smashed potions, scattered herbs, and spattered salves were strewn about the room, with a still smoking pile of embers that had once been a box of gauze marking the center of the blast radius. The scent of burning cotton was soon joined by the scent of smoldering marjoram and Brigid couldn’t find it in herself to be very upset about it.

“You threw the fireball,” he retorted, crossing his arms.

She huffed, hands on her hips and glaring at Thancred. “_You_ were chasin’ the bloody thing through here.”

“You were the one—”

“What happened here?” asked a soft voice, and the bickering couple froze, both flickering their eyes in the direction of said soft voice.

There Llewellyn stood, Sammy behind him, and Llewellyn was leaning slightly on his cane, taking in the crisis area with an unreadable expression on his face. Sammy, meanwhile, was frowning at the mess. “It looks like an aldgoat ran through here,” he grumbled, already rolling up his sleeves as though he was going to be the one to clean it.

Brigid and Thancred looked at each other, then at Llewellyn, and before the eldest O’Donnell could get another word out the pair pointed at each other and chorused “She did it!” “He did it!”

(In the end they both cleaned up and gathered replacement herbs for him, Llewellyn’s sad expression more than enough punishment.

Brigid made Thancred replace the marjoram though.)


	6. Vault is a Verb Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 5: Vault

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of the For the Dancing and the Dreaming AU. Title taken from [this](https://aethernoise.tumblr.com/post/187516241359/a-friendly-and-maybe-helpful-reminder-that-vault) post.

“You’re bein’ lucky I’m bein’ so used to tendin’ sore legs,” Brigid scolded good-naturedly as she wrapped Iolaire’s leg in a warmed towel, kneeling on the floor in front of him. “Were you tryin’ to show up Estinien ‘gain?”

The other Elezen hissed in a breath as the towel tightened around his over-worked calf and he smiled down at her weakly. “I don’t have to try very hard, dear.” Brigid sighed and shook her head fondly, leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead. He tilted his head into it, eyes soft and fond. “Though no, it was a training lesson for your brother today. He asked for advice on Elusive Jump.”

She hummed and wrung out another towel from the bowl of warm water she had nearby. The steam smelled faintly of clove and rosemary and it made her hands tingle. “I am always worryin’ he’s goin’ to be breakin’ his neck doin’ that. Thank you for helpin’ him.” She knelt back down and wrapped his other leg, ignoring Iolaire’s wince as she did so. “Be sure to _nay_ be lettin’ me know when you’re practicin’ those dives, I’m nay needin’ the worry.”

Iolaire smiled and reached out for Brigid’s hand, kissing the back of it and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. She blushed lightly, still not used to such courtly affection. “Your brother is in the best of hands, my heart.” They threaded their fingers together and he squeezed them gently. “Certainly better than if we let Estinien try,” he added, and laughed as he dodged a thrown towel.

“Dragoons and their rivalries,” she sighed with a shake of her head. Her voice was more fond than angry. “What am I to be doin’ with you lot?”

He chuckled and pulled her closer, leaning in to rest his forehead against hers. “I haven’t any idea,” he murmured with a smile. “Should we find out together?”


	7. Happy Babies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 6: First Steps

The world was such a big place, and they were both so tiny. So they stuck together, watching the world side by side with big green eyes only a few shades different from each other’s.

They had yet to learn to walk, so Mum and Da were content to set them down on a blanket nearby, trusting they would stay put while they took care of the house or ran after Llewellyn and his ever growing menagerie of injured animals and occasional voidsent. And they did, more than happy to babble nonsense at each other that they still somehow understood. Besides, if they really wanted something all they had to do was make the right amount of noise they had three people who would take care of it, right?

And so life continued, until one day Brigid saw something bright and colorful. They were outside (and things were even _bigger_ there!) and the air was moving and it made other things move! And she saw it, far away but so very pretty. She reached out for it but she couldn’t grab it! She pouted and William patted at her shoulder, babbling at her.

She babbled back, pointing at the pretty thing. William looked in that direction, his own eyes widening as he saw what she wanted. He frowned, grunting slightly. He babbled again at Brigid, face set in a determined expression. His intent apparently conveyed, he grabbed hold of a nearby chair, pulling himself to his feet.

Brigid’s eyes widened and her mouth opened in a small O shape as she watched him sway in place a moment before taking just as determined steps towards it. He grabbed the brightly colored pretty thing in chubby baby hands and brought it back to Brigid, dropping it over her head. She squealed happily and laughed, hands just as chubby grabbing at what rained down.

And that was how Brigitte and Hereward O’Donnell found their twin children, William walking over to and pulling up fistfuls of grass and flowers before throwing them at his sister, the both of them giggling happily.


	8. Forgiven Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 7: Forgiven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, first of the **SHADOWBRINGERS SPOILERS** fics. If you have **NOT BEATEN THE 79 TRIAL** do not read this fic. Come back when you have.
> 
> This is set directly after the trial and uses in-game dialog and events that have been moved around just a bit for ease of flow. Forgive (pun not intended) me this artistic liberty.
> 
> "Bocht páiste" translates to "poor child."

Brigid could hear the footsteps of the Scions running up behind her (even Thancred’s, as quiet as they had always been, had always equally been the clearest to her ears), but she otherwise disregarded them, her eyes locked on the broken golden figure on the floor before her.

“Why? Why am _I_ cast down… when it is _you_ who are the villains?” She sighed, ready to tune out whatever justification Vauthry thought would matter to her when he spoke again. “Father told me… that I am hope. I am righteousness. That I am… a _god_…”

She felt a familiar spike of pain lance through her head, hand flying to her temple and she groaned. Not now! She didn’t need this _now_!

“Spitfire!”

“Jes’ th’ Echo,” she could hear William growl, knowing that he was holding Thancred back from running over to her.

She could feel it, being pulled to witness what could only be Vauthry’s past, the fuzzy voices and sepia toned images reaching out to her.

_…I will bring hither a Lightwarden. By giving its power to the babe within your lady wife’s womb, we shall create a transcendent being — a king to rule over all. And as sire to the king, your authority will never again be in question._

(Oh _of course_ that absolute _idiot_ was responsible for all this. By the Twelve Brigid wanted to _stab_ that _smug look_ off his face.)

_With this gift, my line shall be guaranteed power for perpetuity! We shall rule the whole world!_

(Oh… oh _no wonder_…)

As she came out of the Echo Brigid could feel her heart fall into her feet and break for the one before her. “Oh _bocht páiste_,” she murmured, walking forward and kneeling in front of him. She lightly placed a hand on his arm, head lowered. “You werenae ever havin’ a chance, were you?”

“How can this be? I should be the one… looking down at you…”

She shook her head, settling next to his, eyes downcast. “Nay one’s lookin’ down at you, _bocht páiste_,” she soothed, “only bein’ sad ‘tis your fate.” She felt the tears prickling behind her eyes, feeling nothing but sorrow now. With parents like that, with a conception like that, being told and raised like that, what else could have happened?

“Help me…”

“‘Course, dear.” She patted his hand gently, though her own was so much smaller and she could only really pat a finger. “Shall I be singin’ you to sleep?” It took just a moment, but soon she heard a soft and so very young sounding _mm-hmm_. “_Lullaby and goodnight_,” she sang softly, stroking Innocence’s hair. “_With roses bedight, with lilies o’er spread…_” She swallowed in the pause, shaking her head. “_Is baby’s wee bed._”

“What is she doing?” she heard Ryne ask, more confused than anything.

“Every mother’s heart breaks for a child,” Urianger replied, voice soft. “It matters naught what crimes they hath committed.”

(Unbeknownst to Brigid, Thancred bowed his head, knowing that they were both thinking of the toddler they had left behind on the Source, wondering when Mum and Da would wake up or come home.)

“_Lay thee down now and rest._” She continued to stroke his hair, listening to his soft weeping. Soon he started to fade, his body turning into Light. As the Light rose and hovered in the air, Brigid allowed a single tear to fall.

_May thy slumber be blessed…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics taken from Johannes Brahm's _Cradle Song_.
> 
> I just. Have a lot of feelings about that Echo. About nature vs nurture and how sometimes people just don't have a chance in the world. Not that this excuses anything he did, of course, but I think sometimes, what if?


	9. Changing Borders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 8: Hand Holding (Extra credit/free day)

Arthur had never liked to be touched. It had confused his mother especially, since she was a person who showed her affection through touch, but they adjusted. As Arthur grew he also adjusted. Shoulder pats became the default way to show affection, and their father could ruffle his hair as long as he gave prior warning and stopped quickly. Beyond that, however, he would freeze or pull away from nearly any unexpected touch.

(Clothing was an even worse experience, and he shared his mother and sister’s utter hatred for shoes. Still, he tolerated them as clothing, at least, was non-negotiable.)

It was easy, surprisingly so from everyone else’s perspective, to go through life with minimal touch. It became even easier after leaving home for the Guild, most people respecting his space or simply not nearly as interested in being that close to him. The occasional hug (barely tolerated) and handshake (much better) still happened, but for the most part he was left alone. Upon summoning his carbuncles he realized that his main complaint had to do with skin to skin contact, as it never bothered him when they rubbed up against him out of the blue.

It _didn’t_ all change when he met Matsu and then later Araki, as some stories would say. His aversion to touch was an inborn thing, very unlikely to ever truly go away. It would only find different borders over time, or settle even harder into already established ones. Matsu seemed to inherently understand this, while Araki needed to be reminded for the first few moons.

Matsu’s hand was cool, was his first thought when the Au Ra first purposefully reached out for his hand. He didn’t feel the need to retreat and he didn’t feel as though he was trapped either. The calluses on his palm and fingers betrayed his long years and practice with the lance, and they didn’t make him feel like claws were dragging down his back. To both their surprise Arthur closed his hand around Matsu’s and even squeezed it in return. It was… nice, and he smiled softly at Matsu’s surprised expression. He rubbed his fingers over Matsu’s scales, and it sent pleasant shivers down Arthur’s spine.

He couldn’t explain it, never could when he found a new location in his borders, but holding Matsu’s hand brought him a great deal of comfort, and later so would Araki’s.

Araki’s hand was a different story, and for a different time, however.


	10. A Moment of Pause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 9: Hesitate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another of the **SHADOWBRINGERS SPOILERS** fics. For this one **DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT FINISHED THE 73 TRIAL**. This is set a few quests before that but I think the 73 trial is a good signpost for it.

He had heard the stories. Never accept food from an O’Donnell if you valued either your life (Arthur) or the integrity of your digestion. The hyphenated O’Donnells (or as good as hyphenated in Matsu’s case) were acceptable, and if you discovered yourself the recipient of Feli’s cooking you were to thank the Twelve for such a blessing.

Which was why Thancred found himself pausing when Brigid set a bowl of thin soup down in front of him.

It wasn’t that Brigid was a terror in a kitchen like her brothers, no. She was a skilled _chocolatier_, in the long run, and soup was clearly not a confection. Not to mention their rather… _strained_ relationship since the aftermath of Dohn Mheg and the Fuath had him… wary.

He glanced up at her, eyebrow raised, and she huffed, crossing her arms. Her eyes were afire still, and not in the way he would rather she look at him. No, this was the look that had earned her the endearment _Spitfire_. “If I was goin’ to be killin’ you, you wouldnae be lastin’ long ‘nough to be wonderin’,” she spat before turning on her heel and returning to the pot.

…He quite deserved that, he thought, slowly pulling the bowl towards him. It hadn’t exploded yet, so he could at least rest easy that it wasn’t Arthur’s cooking.

She didn’t sit next to him, didn’t lean her head on his shoulder and doze, didn’t tangle her fingers with his. The soup wasn’t a peace offering. If she had upended the bowl over his head it would have hurt less.

It was nothing more than he deserved though, he decided as he slowly ate.


	11. Growth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 10: Foster

Brigid had expected several things as one of the wards of House Fortemps. To be well hidden from Ilberd and his flunkies, to have to earn her keep in one way or another, and to not bring shame onto her benefactors (which she had failed to do given that she was now an unwed mother who might be carrying the bastard child of a bastard child, but at least she could avoid pushing Emmanellain into the Sea of Clouds).

What she had not expected, especially in light of her marital state, was to be gifted with a pair of greenhouses.

Well, perhaps not _gifted_, per se. More “put in charge of” really. Cleaning them, returning them to working order, maintaining them. Perhaps even finding plants to stock them again. She knew it was meant to keep her out of trouble, as stories of her temper had long since beat her to Ishgard, but it did mean a great deal to her that Count Edmont had found something that suited her interests so well.

They had been in a better state than she expected, given the shift in climate over the past few yeas. They needed winterizing, which was easily remedied between herself and Araki lending his carpentry talents to reinforce the worst of the damaged areas. Dead and beyond saving plants were respectfully discarded, allowing Brigid to focus on those that could be rescued.

Hidden in the back of the first greenhouse, almost so well hidden she wasn’t sure how they had managed to exist, she found larkspur seeds and hyacinth bulbs. She doubted she would be able to help them grow long enough to flower, but it was worth trying to at least get them to sprout. That they had been kept cold so long gave them a better chance at flowering, an advantage that Brigid fully intended to make use of.

It took days of babying, of checking soil drainage and chattering the ears off of the nearest Fortemps guard or steward about optimal sunlight and temperatures. Days of visiting the chocobo stables to find the correct fertilizer to encourage growth. Hours of trying to convince both Feli and Llewellyn to maybe help things along with conjury and other healing magic, with both of them telling her no. She did her utmost to help them along, to help them take root and break through the soil.

Shortly before they left on the journey to meet with Lady Iceheart, to eventually treat with the dragons and discover how to end the war for good, she checked the greenhouses one last time before packing. She threw her arms around _Emmanellain_ of all people when she discovered the smallest shoots of green peaking through the soil, bright and strong and ready to grow even more.

Someone must have tended to them while she was gone, she thought when she returned to Ishgard some months later, newborn child in her arms and tucked in blankets to shield against the cold, because when she checked on them after, they had flowered a beautiful blue and white.


	12. Up to Speed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 11: Snuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another **SHADOWBRINGERS SPOILERS** fic. As it follows imedietly from _A Moment of Pause_ do not read if **YOU HAVE NOT FINISHED THE 73 TRIAL**.
> 
> I went with the phrase "up to snuff" as my kickoff point. "Beag amháin" translates to "little one."

Brigid placed a bowl of soup down in front of Minfilia and sat down next to her. “If you’re hearin’ the stories ‘bout me family’s cookin’,” and here she shot a glare in Thancred’s direction, “you’re nay needin’ to be worryin’. Llewellyn’s bein’ a fine hand at soups.”

The girl blinked up at her but took it and ate, studiously not looking at Brigid. “Thank you,” she said quietly, far too shyly.

“You’re bein’ welcome, _beag amháin_,” she said with a smile, reaching out to stroke down her back soothingly. “I’m noticin’ you’re usin’ knives,” she added, turning to her own bowl.

Minfilia paused and glanced up at her, eyes unsure before quickly turning back to her soup. “Yes… Thancred taught me.” She tried not to flinch as she watched the corners of Brigid’s lips tighten.

“Well.” Brigid ate, holding back her temper. “Supposin’ he’s bein’ an alright teacher.” She paused again, focusing her eyes on the fire. “I’m bein’ better.”

Minfilia saw how Alisaie glanced over to them, eyebrow raised. “Quite the claim, Sister,” she said neutrally.

“Hardly bein’ a claim when ‘tis bein’ true,” Brigid shot back, barely restrained heat in her voice. “I _am_ bein’ the more trained of the two of us.” She pulled a thin chain out from under her top, revealing two crystals hanging from it. One black, the other a violet shade. It clearly meant something that Alisaie understood because she nodded. Brigid tucked them back into place and patted the ground near Minfilia’s leg. “Once we’re finishin’ here you and I will be takin’ some time to be trainin’, seein’ where you’re bein’.”

“Oh,” she said, focusing on her soup. “I see.”

There was a pause and then Brigid set her bowl to the side, watching Minfilia until the girl met her eyes. “_Beag amháin_,” she started, “‘tis only if you’re wantin’ to. I was only thinkin’ you’d like to be learnin’ more, gettin’ more skills. You can be sayin’ nay.” She slowly reached out to clasp one of the girl’s hands. “You can _always_ be sayin’ nay. Dinnae matter who’s talkin’ to you, if you’re nay wantin’ a thing you’re _always_ bein’ able to say nay. And ‘tis ‘cludin’ me, alright?”

There was another pause before Minfilia nodded. “I would like to learn,” she said hesitantly, just as hesitant a smile on her face. Brigid beamed at her and squeezed her hand before letting go.

“Aye, ‘tis me lass! With me teachin’ you, you’ll be killin’ sin eaters left and right in nay time!”


	13. Idiots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 12: Fingers Crossed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of the For the Dancing and the Dreaming AU.
> 
> Pray for Estinien's Sanity, y'all.

They were _such idiots_, Estinien thought to himself as he watched Iolaire and Brigid walk in front of himself and William. Their party was patrolling the outskirts of Camp Dragonhead, ostensibly watching for dragons and Garleans (and the occasional giant and badly behaved karakul), but in fact… he was watching two _idiots_ dance around each other.

It was _so obvious_ to anyone who knew _anything_ about Ishgardian courtship that Iolaire was desperately trying to court Brigid _and yet clearly the bloody woman was absolutely blind_! And of course he got the front row seat to the sheer embarrassment of it all. But as William rubbed his hand over his face as he too watched the idiocy progress it was clear he was as much aware of how blind his sister was as Estinien was.

“’E wus givin’ ‘er _peach blossoms_,” he grumbled, and yes, of course William would be the one to know Ishgardian floriography. He _would_ be the one to know that Iolaire had absolutely announced his intent to court William’s twin sister with that bouquet… and he clearly also knew that his sister was one of the most blind fools under the Fury’s gaze.

“And a blade,” Estinien added, eyes flicking to the spare knife Brigid kept strapped at the small of her back, having been the “lucky” one to witness that particular gift’s bequeathment. She had smiled so widely he was certain she had to know what Iolaire had just done, _and yet_!

“An’ Sohm Al tarts,” William replied, running his gloved hand through his hair in frustration.

“He does know she can’t cook for shite, aye?” he grumbled, keeping half an eye on the two in front, laughing at some inane thing one of them had said. It was tradition to return like for like, a weapon for a weapon, food for food. “And of the four of us he’s the only one who _can_ cook beyond field rations?”

“Aye… dinnae how ‘e wus thinkin’ ‘twas gang tae work,” William said on a sigh. “’E’s always cookin’, nay bein’ obvious he’s favorin’ ‘er loch tha’.”

The two paused as they watched Iolaire take Brigid’s hand in his and press a positively gallant kiss to the back. Like a knight accepting a favor from his lady fair. It was a textbook display of chivalry. The stuff sung of by bards.

It made Estinien _sick_ to watch them be so _stupid_ over each other.

William held out his fist even as his eyes were set on the cloyingly sweet, horrifically oblivious pair. “Here’s hopin’ she’ll be figurin’ it out wi’ the clothin’?” he said, and even as Estinien knew it was as hollow a hope as any other to be found in Coerthas he sighed and bumped his fist against William’s in a mock toast.

“Or the masquerade,” he grumbled.

By the Fury _please_ let Brigid realize what the man was doing. If she didn’t, someone was going to have to tell her, and with his luck…

…oh. Shite. It was going to have to be _him_, wasn’t it?

_Bloody idiots_!


	14. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 13: Wax

It was soothing, Sammy thought, to do basic household chores. Llewellyn did so much for him, for other people, and this was such a small thing he could do in return. Except the laundry. It was very difficult to fold a shirt bigger than yourself, after all. And Twelve forbid he even try to clean the bedding. 

Hazards of falling in love with one of the tallest of the Spoken, he thought. But it was one that was worth it, everyday. 

His favorite thing was polishing the furniture. Melt down a little wax, mix in a drop or two of oil, and set to work on the nearest wooden surface. The repetitive motion calmed him, which was how Llewellyn had quickly learned the signs of a very nervous Sammy: Even the walls were shined to within an inch of their lives. 

The walls were very often very shiny in the early years of their relationship, through no fault of Llewellyn’s.

Today, however, Sammy only wanted a shiny dinner table, one that would reflect the light of candle flames during dinner that night. It would be a simple roast with simple vegetables, but it was a hearty meal, and one he could be proud of. And by Azemya, he was going to serve it on a nice looking table! 

He worked until he saw his own face looking back at him from the walnut lumber, and smiled brightly. Yes, this was perfect!

And indeed it was, as Llewellyn walked in the door to find his beloved standing in front of a well set table wearing his finest clothes. "Happy anniversary," Sammy greeted him, the smile still on his face as Llewellyn knelt down to fondly kiss his beloved.


	15. Medical Assistive Carbuncle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 14: Scour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring a guest appearance via letter from Synnove Greywolfe (@dragons-bones on tumblr/DT Maxwell on AO3). Go read her stuff, Synnove and the Squad are _awesome_ (and so is DT, very good bean).

Arthur ran his fingers through his hair, smearing ink on his face and into the blond strands. He sighed deeply, shoulders shuddering. He tried to ignore Niamh shredding one of Araki's tawdry romance novels (that he was very sure was only several sex scenes barely connected by something that could barely be called plot) at his feet. He tried very hard to ignore that he hadn't seen Líle in over a bell. She'd pop back home eventually. 

He almost jumped out of his skin when a pale hand with just as pale scales appeared in his field of vision next to one of the massive books he had been desperately searching through. "Fucking _Twelve_, Matsu!" 

The Au Ra laughed softly before replacing his hand with a porcelain cup and saucer. They were pale green with a pattern of small white dots on top. "I thought you might like a cup of tea," he said evenly, sitting in a nearby chair. "Take a break." He raised an eyebrow as he watched Arthur's hand shake as he reached out for the cup. "Calm your nerves?" 

"The only reason my nerves need 'calming' is because you nearly killed me by fright alone," he snapped at him before sipping his tea. 

Matsu frowned, eyes narrowing. "I neither touched you nor spoke unexpectedly." At Arthur's withering expression he sighed. "There is only so much I can do, dear," he added, rubbing his hand across his face. "You startle so easily." 

Arthur sighed as well, leaning back in his seat with his tea. Niamh seemed to grow bored and abandoned the remains of Araki's book as she trotted into the kitchen. Líle did not pop into existence. "I know. And I'm trying to fix that," he said apologetically, tapping at the book. "And coming up against every brick wall."

Neither Ryuzaki twin understood much of arcanima, but Matsu was most willing to try, and he craned his neck trying to read from the book. "What are you researching?"

"Assistive commands and coding for carbuncles," he explained with a sigh. "They're already quite intelligent, able to do simple tasks when commanded." They both ignored the thump that was likely a loaf of bread hitting the floor. "However, outside of combat they're not very good at anticipating the needs of the summoner. I was hoping to find some arrays in the library, perhaps augment them somehow. Instead," he tapped the book again, "every brick wall in Eorzea." He drained his cup and sighed, not even registering the pop of displaced air that heralded Líle's coalescence in the room. He also ignored the quite haggard looking note tied to one of her legs, bound up in aetheric green colored ribbon. 

Matsu nodded, also ignoring Líle. "And what do you intend to do?" he asked, pouring Arthur another cup. He watched as his beloved took a long, fortifying drink before dragging over his practice grimoire. Arthur opened it to a blank page and dipped his quill into non-aetheric purple ink. 

"Drill through the walls," he said. "Write my own code, draw my own arrays." 

Matsu finally pulled the the note off Líle's leg. "It says ‘LEASH’, by the way.” He paused, swallowing. He knew exactly who in the Gate Líle had run into. “In green aetheric ink." 

As did Arthur. _Professor Synnove._ "...And I'll code it into Niamh." 

Another crash and dull rolling noises came from the kitchen. 

"...I'm due a Ruby soon, I'll code it then." He started writing, and then paused. "Maybe an opal. Rainbows are soothing, yes?"

“…Aren’t they rather difficult?”

“Just another wall to drill through, Matsu.” He shrugged. “What’s one more?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also can we all be very impressed that I wrote 99% of this on my phone in a hotel room the night of my cousin's wedding? Because I'm very impressed with myself.


	16. Pie Making

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 15: Apple (Extra credit/free day)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based On A True Story (tm)

Araki was so proud of himself! He’d wanted to try his hand at some form of baking and Arthur had suggested an apple pie. He’d also rolled his eyes fondly when he’d suggested it, and Matsu had sighed at Arthur, but his brother soon escorted him into the kitchen to peruse his cookbooks.

They chose a simple apple pie, one sized perfectly for the three of them and easy enough for a first timer to attempt. The pie crust went simply enough, even though Matsu had needed to pull him to the side during the chilling portion of the process, trying to explain to him the idea of flour hydration and letting things rest. Araki didn’t care but he filed it away anyway, since it seemed like it mattered to Matsu.

Putting the spices together with the sugar was easy, especially with Matsu having left a list for him to mark things off on, just to ensure he didn’t accidentally double (or possibly even triple) the amount of nutmeg. He didn’t quite understand the lemon juice on the sliced apples bit but well if it was written down it must have been important, right?

He had filled the crust with his sliced up apples and was rolling out the top crust when both his brother and boyfriend walked into the kitchen. “Come to look longingly at dessert?” he asked on a laugh, checking the thickness of his crust. He was starting to think he rather liked dessert making, it seemed to make his brain settle and actually focus on something for an extended period of time, kind of like his carpentry and leatherworking. “Bit early, it’s not even in the oven yet!”

The two were rather quiet, looking over his shoulder or around his arm depending on which of the two it was, poking at the apples in the pie. They looked at each other, nodding, and Matsu sighed.

“Aki,” Arthur started, looking up at him with those big green eyes that Araki always felt like they saw far too much, “Why are the apples red?”

He blinked, so very confused. “Because Mirror Apples are red?” he asked slowly, trying to figure out where the issue was.

Arthur sighed and shook his head. “You need to _peel_ them, Aki.”

He blinked again, turning to look at Matsu as though trying to confirm that Arthur was joking around with him, and he felt himself wilt slightly when Matsu nodded. “Don’t worry,” he said softly, rubbing his shoulder fondly. “You’ll remember for next time. And it’s not worth peeling them now, so just put the crust on and bake. It won’t be bad.”

And in truth it wasn’t, though Arthur pulled a few too many peels out of his slices over the next day or so. Araki thought it added a nice taste to it, and the sauce seemed to stick nicely to it.

Matsu was right, however. He never forgot to peel the apples ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I love my cousin and think she should be named a saint? Yes, absolutely. Do I also take any opportunity to tell my absolute favorite cooking story of hers? _Absolutely yes._


	17. Discovering Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 16: Jitter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has gotten over 200 extra words in the edit. Have fun!

Llewellyn walked past the kitchen, absently glancing through the door as he did. 

Then he doubled back, eyes gone wide and very, very confused. 

First there was Araki, sprawled out over the dinner table, empty mug at his elbow. If Llewellyn didn't know better, he would have thought the Raen was sedated. He _did_ look like he'd smoked a ponze or two of fog weed, though. 

Then there was Sammy. His beloved lamb, sweet and calm normally, was practically running around the room, bouncing against the cabinets. He too had an empty mug in his hands, and it was then that Llewellyn finally saw the pot with dark, pungent smelling liquid in it. 

Well. Coffee certainly explained Sammy, at least. He could figure Araki out later. He sighed and reached out to stop Sammy's bouncing, holding back a smile when Sammy looked up at him in surprise. 

"I think I should cut you off, lamb," he said fondly. "And call Arthur to come pick up Araki." 

* * *

Shida didn’t even blink when Arthur marched into the bar of the Rising Stones, didn’t even look up from tuning his harp when the other slammed down a canvas sack in front of him. He waited a long moment before smiling and then looking up at Arthur, smile growing wider as he took in the quite angry eyes behind green rimed glasses, the grounded legs and crossed arms that went with them. “Yes?” he asked, all false innocence.

“_Llewellyn_,” and Arthur stressed the name, which Shida was sure was supposed to make him concerned but failed to, “wants to know how Sammy got his hands on the same line of coffee the Guild is close to _banning_ due to the caffeine content. And _I_ want to know how this same coffee made _my boyfriend_ as lethargic as if he’d been hit with the strongest sleeping potion during a Coerthan winter!”

Shida watched Arthur for another long moment, eyes twinkling with mischief. “And why,” he drawled out, plucking a string on his harp, “do you think _I_ had anything to do with it, my friend?”

“Your name was one of the few things Llewellyn could understand from Sammy’s rambles! Before the man just straight up collapsed into bed from the crash! Have you ever seen a Lalafell on a caffeine high? _Because I have_!”

The bard hummed, adjusting his strings. “Well now, isn’t that interesting?” he asked, smirking up at Arthur.

“Tell me or I’ll make a leash for _Niamh_ and tie her to you with it.”

A pause. “When you put it like that…”


	18. The Archbishop's Summons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 17: Obeisant (defined as the act of showing respect; being deferential to authority figures)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of the For the Dancing and the Dreaming AU.
> 
> Also known as: Why they really shouldn't let Bri be the "face" of the Warriors of Light in Ishgard.

“We have just received a message from the Vault. His Eminence the Archbishop requests the presence of Mistress O’Donnell.” The steward bowed, awaiting the expected answer.

“An invitation from the Archbishop?!”

“What an honor...” The other two sons of Count Edmont spoke over each other, faces in a combination of surprise and awe.

“A personal summons is indeed a great honor, and given recent events, you would be wise not to delay…” Edmont hinted, an eyebrow raised at Brigid.

She raised her eyebrow in return. “He cannae ‘ford me.”

All sound in the room ceased. William facepalmed. Alphinaud and Tataru sighed.

Count Edmont blinked, the only thing that betrayed his surprise. “Pardon, my dear?” he asked slowly.

Brigid shrugged. “He. Cannae. Afford me.” William groaned, shaking his head, his hand still in place. She glared at him, scowling. “You’re knowin’ ‘tis bein’ true!”

“She’s right, he can’t,” chimed in Iolaire from where he was leaning against the wall.

“Tha’s nay bein’ me complaint and ye’re kennin’ tha’!” William grumbled back. “Ah’m nay havin’ any part ay thi’.”

The steward’s face remained impassive, but he did turn to Count Edmont. “What message shall I convey, my Lord?”

Thankfully Count Edmont had much experience with willful younger Elezen, so he only adjusted his grip on his cane. “Pray inform His Eminence Mistress O’Donnell will be along anon,” he replied. The steward bowed and left to perform his task. “Now, Brigid…”

“I’m nay respectin’ the man in the slightest,” she objected, crossing her arms as she did. “I’m seein’ the way the Brume’s bein’, how the priests are actin’. I’m bein’ an _outsider_, aye? Nay one of his subjects, bein’ at his beck and call. If he’s wantin’ to be seein’ me, well. ‘Tis bein’ nice to be wantin’ things, isnae it?”

The group clearly had no idea what they could even say to that, and Brigid kept her arms crossed, unwilling to budge. William was mentally running through what appropriate clothing Brigid even owned, wanting to be prepared for when they did finally convince her that when a country’s head of state requested her presence, it was _not actually a request_.

Eventually Iolaire sighed. “I’ll go,” he said, pushing himself off the wall. “I’ll be called for eventually; might as well get it over with.”

“You’ll be tellin’ him—”

“He can’t afford you,” he agreed. “And never could.”


	19. Blossoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 18: Wilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of the For the Dancing and the Dreaming AU.

Brigid hummed softly to herself as she arranged the peach blossoms in a small vase. It had been such a pretty bouquet, given to her out of the blue for no real reason she could discover. It must have cost so much gil, especially considering how hard it would have been to find them in Eorzea without arousing the suspicions of the Crystal Braves.

She tried not to think too hard on it, both the circumstances of their being in Ishgard and the cost of the flowers. It was _rude_ to contemplate the price of a gift, her mother had said when they were all children. And she would not let herself be _rude_ about such a thoughtful gift. And such a pretty gift it was too! An uncommon flower, one that smelled lovely at that.

She feared for the day they started showing signs of wilting, and made a note to find an alchemist that could preserve the flowers for her. For now she used every trick she knew to delay the need. Properly prepared water in the vase, the best lit location she could find in her room at Fortemps Manor even with the ever present Coerthan weather. She sang a little to it, remembering how the roses she grew back in the brothel had done well when she did.

Brigid reached up and pulled the yellow oldrose from her hair, twisting it around by the pin that kept it secure. It was her signature, she knew. She so rarely wore anything else that folk commented on it when the rose was missing. But then, once the peach blossoms were preserved she could have a few set in a hairpin to wear for a moon or so. To show him how much she had liked his gift. That would be the proper way to show her appreciation, a voice that sounded quite a bit like her mother’s affirmed.

She hummed again, a few loose words playing through her mind as she did. The pink blossoms seemed to like the tune, so perhaps she would write it down. She moved the vase to sit next to her bed, just for the night. A slight touch of whimsy and romance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read "romance" as the non-love version of the word. And also I'm very sorry for the lack of responses to comments right now, I'm having a bit of a rough weekend. I promise I'll get back to them soon.


	20. What's in a Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 19: Radiant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Aine" is pronounced "Awn-yay" as near as I can tell. Irish is hard, y'all.

Thancred ran his fingers through Brigid’s hair as they laid in bed, the silence a comfortable one. The strands of her hair slipped between his fingers like oil, just the slightest bit of grip before falling and puddling on his chest where she lay. She made a satisfied sound and relaxed further against him, drawing absent shapes on his chest.

They laid there a moment more, and just before they both dozed off Thancred finally spoke. “Twelve,” he breathed, more to himself than anything else, “you’re beautiful.”

“Mm, thank you,” Brigid hummed softly, completely unashamed. “You’re bein’ quite handsome yourself.”

“Positively radiant, in fact,” he added, grinning as she slid up and settling her head properly on the pillow. He slid his fingers into her hair, cupping the back of her head and running the thumb over her cheekbone, dipping into the scar that crossed from her hairline down over her chin.

She laughed, emerald green eyes twinkling and hiding part of her face in his hand. “‘Tis funny you’re sayin’ that when me name is meanin’ ‘radiant’,” she said fondly, reaching out to run her hand through his own hair.

“Aah, so Brigid does have a meaning,” he teased, nuzzling his nose against hers.

She laughed again and pecked a kiss to the tip before pulling back slightly. “Nay, nay, nay Brigid. _Aine_.”

It took him a moment to make the connection before he huffed out a laugh. “Ishgardian influence in your family?”

“Mm, maybe. But aye, me full name is bein’ Brigid Océane Aine. Bein’ named for Mum, and me da was claimin’ we were bein’ born on the Rhotano itself so Océane.” She hummed softly and draped an arm over his shoulder, relaxing further into bed. “Thinkin’ Aine was bein’ a name Mum was hearin’ somewhere and likin’.” She yawned and Thancred laughed, stroking down her back.

“And living up to it,” he said with a smile. “Even when worn out as you are.”

She weakly shoved at a shoulder, smiling softly. “You’re bein’ to blame for that, you’re knowin’,” she murmured sleepily and he laughed in return, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

When she had drifted off, head back on his chest to listen to his heartbeat, he kept stroking her hair and then over her shoulders and down her back, tracing along her tattoos. Yes, absolutely beautiful, and radiant, and deep inside he had a feeling she would be his downfall.

Ah, but what a way to fall.


	21. Sharing is Caring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 20: Bisect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another "written on my phone because wedding" fic, this one the day before my brother's as we were driving up to his venue before rehearsal dinner... which explains why the first draft of this had Mama O'Donnell's name spelled wrong so much. Thanks GDocs!
> 
> Reminder that "beag amháin" means "little one."

They were twins, yes, but that never meant that they would always get along. Especially when food was scarce and they both wanted the same thing.

Brigid, legs barely bending at the knee, ran up to Brigitte, tears running down her face. “Mama! Li Li willnae be lettin’ me have th’ last honey cake!”

Brigitte sighed and looked over to where her daughter had left her youngest son sitting, and sure enough tiny baby hands were clutching hard to the very last of the cakes Hereward had baked that morning. She shook her head slightly and scooped up her daughter, tutting soothingly at her as they walked over to her youngest son. "Little spark," she said softly, sitting down next to him. "Why are you bein' mean to your sister?" 

William looked up at Brigitte and clenched harder at the cake, digging little fingers into it. Brigid made a sad noise and Brigitte stroked her hair. "M'ne," he grumbled, accent barely intelligible at his age.

Brigitte held back another sigh, counting to five as she did. She loved her fiery children, she did, but goodness if they didn't live up to their names at times. "You have to share, little spark. Here, let me have it." 

William watched her suspiciously for a moment but finally handed over the cake to her. She leaned over to place a quick kiss to the crown of his head. "Good lad," she murmured. She held it out where both children could see and then neatly tore it down the middle, handing one half to each of the twins. 

"Thank y'mama," Brigid said quietly, sticking a corner into her mouth quickly, as though it would stop William from stealing it from her. William grunted but also started nibbling on his half. 

"You're welcome _beag amháin_," she replied fondly. "Remember though, you're always needing to share."


	22. Another Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 21: Crunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **SPOILERS FOR THE END OF PATCH 4.5, DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT REACHED THIS PART.**
> 
> References the For the Dancing and the Dreaming AU but is not part of it.

Brigid hated snow. Hated the sound of the crunch underfoot, hated the cold, hated the way it felt like with every step there were invisible hands reaching up to take her by the legs and pull her under, or reaching out to wrap around her chest and _squeeze_ until her lungs ached from it. She hated how she could see Arthur flinch with nearly every especially loud step that any of them took, knowing that the sound had to be nearly torture to his ears.

She hated the sound of her breath when she was out in the snow. The wheezing of it, and hearing that wheezing echoed in Feli’s breath as well, was like rocks being dragged against each other. Hated the harsh barking sound of her coughs and the way they shuddered through her body. Hated the sound of her teeth clattering against each other as she shivered, pulling untold layers of fabric and fur and the occasional carbuncle around herself in a desperate bid to warm up and stay warm, at least until they could find a fire.

She should have hated Coerthas, Ishgard, with every fiber of her being. And there were things she did hate. The indoctrination of the population, the way they seemingly ignored there were eleven more members of the Twelve, the constant calls of “heretic” in those early days, the way some would look at her child, the stories of the Countess de Fortemps, Thordan, the Heaven’s Ward. She hated how easily some ignored the one suffering in the Brume, hated how some sons were ignored in memory of other sons, hated the idea of “trueborn” and “bastard,” hated the Vault so much she would burn it to the ground with a blink of her eye.

And Brigid did not find hate an easy emotion to arouse in herself or bear for any real length of time.

Yet with all of those things she hated in the region, the things she hated in the people who lived there, Ishgard had become home. For Ishgard had Lord Edmont, Hilda, Lucia, Aymeric, Francel. It had given them protection when they had most needed it, a place to hide from false accusations and their collective grief. Her child had found a grandfather, uncles, an aunt.

(She had seen (and _Seen_) a knight with silver eyes she felt that perhaps, in another life, there could have been something. Something soft with peach blossoms.)

Mor Dhona never felt right afterward. The bed she slept in, the room that was unquestionably her own and yet not the right one. There were no greenhouses to tend to. The highest points didn’t feel quite so high anymore; the wind didn’t smell right anymore. The Gloom moving in over the Fogfens wasn’t as pretty as watching a blizzard from next to a raging fire and sipping hot cocoa or warm mulled wine under a pile of furs.

When Aymeric had told her she should return home and rest, she had been confused.

Ishgard _was_ home, where was she supposed to go?


	23. Grieving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 22: Grave (Free Day)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content warning for: Parental death, grief.**

“I don’t… remember you,” Connor murmured as he awkwardly crouched down to place a bouquet of Nimeya lilies at the headstone he stood before. “Not really. There’s… snatches of images, of songs.” He twisted his hands together and looked around. The wind blowing through his sandy, barely red tinted blond hair was the only sound, the waves of the ocean the only movement nearby. He sighed and sank to the ground.

“Llew tells me Brigid looks like you, that Arthur has your eyes. Sometimes I think I remember you, but.” He groaned and pulled his legs up to rest his head on his knees. “_Am_ I remembering you? Or am I just putting Brigid in your place? Or Arthur?” His unarmored arms draped around his equally unarmored legs, curling up tight.

“I don’t understand,” he ground out after a long period of silence. “I don’t _understand anything_. I don’t understand how you could be here and then not. I don’t understand how _any_ of this happened. Llew says…” his breathing hitched, “Llew says you were happy. If you were so happy _why did he leave_?” His hands clenched tight in the fabric of his pants, free of the leather gloves he wore with his armor.

“It isn’t fair.”


	24. Honeymoon Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 23: Parched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of the For the Dancing and the Dreaming AU.
> 
> SO IOLAIRE'S GOT HIMSELF SOME NAMES, Y'ALL.
> 
> Ádhamh is the Irish form of Adam so I imagine it's pronounced the same and Caoimhín is the Irish form of Kevin and is pretty much pronounced that way (though it would be more accurate to say that Kevin is the Anglicized version of Caoimhín, but you're not here for my rants on the subject).
> 
> Also yesterday was the one month anniversary of Brigid and Iolaire's in game wedding. : D

“I could drink of you forever, if you would but let me,” Iolaire murmured into her neck, nose nudging at her jaw. Brigid tilted her head back into her pillow with a breathless laugh, pink high on her cheeks.

“Seein’ as we were just swearin’ forever,” she murmured fondly, trailing her fingers up and over his bare back and shoulders, “Aye, I’m lettin’ you.” She pushed back a whine when she felt him nip under her ear, sure that a mark would surface to join the ones already dotted along the column of her throat. She shuddered at the sound of the deep chuckle that came from him, rumbling in his chest and settling into hers.

He settled above her, hand coming up to cup her cheek and stroke the scar that crossed it. “Lady Brigid Océane Áine Orraux Argentum,” he whispered, words tinged with quiet amazement. “My wife.” Silver eyes shined with more than adoration and emerald eyes locked with his, twinkling with joy.

“Lord Iolaire Elant Ádhamn Caoimhín Orraux Argentum,” she whispered in return. “Me husband.” She sighed softly, smiling. “I was bein’ so ready to be your wife,” she murmured, leaning up to kiss him sweetly. “And now I am.”

“Now you are,” he echoed, his voice almost disbelieving before leaning down to take his own kiss, deepening it as his hands slid down her arms to her own hands, threading their fingers together. He pressed them lightly into the mattress below them, pulling another laugh from his bride. “My heart.”

“Me pulse,” she returned. She tilted her head to whisper in his ear. “Drink of me,” she purred.

And he did. Over and over, in their marriage bed, surrounded by all the flowers she loved. Over and over, for the dancing and the dreaming. Over and over, guiding through the nights yet to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And if anyone has a problem with the multiple names thing, take it up with Square for naming the kid Joacin Charlemend _Francel_ de Haillenarte. They set the precedent, Bix and I are just abusing it.


	25. Hair Washing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 24: Unctuous
> 
> Contains a reference to _Oh, Hells No_, DT Maxwell's response to this prompt and can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20838770/chapters/50374928). You should go read it because it features Arthur's cooking and why he _really_ shouldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Contains spoilers for patches 4.4 and 4.5. If you have not reached the start of Shadowbringers do not read this.**

“I was catchin’ Feli flirtin’ with one of the wee Adders corporals,” Brigid said as she scrubbed lather through Thancred’s hair, the man sitting on the floor in front of her, leaning into her hands.

“You’re certain?” he asked, tilting his head back just enough for her to reach and to look up at her through white eyelashes.

“His tail was doin’ that thing he’s doin’ when he’s seein’ someone ‘tractive. You’re rememberin’, how ‘tis goin’ all big and poofy, shakin’ a wee bit?” She nudged his head forward again, fingers massaging behind his ears.

“What does Lord Haurchefant think, I wonder,” Thancred replied, and Brigid could hear the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh he’s likely thinkin’ ‘tis a lovely thing, you’re knowin’ how he’s bein’.” She wiped her hands on the towel around Thancred’s shoulders and reached for the bottle of water she had nearby. “‘Bout to rinse,” she warned, and waited for his nod before starting to drizzle the water over his hair.

“Thank you for this,” he murmured, sounding almost embarrassed.

“‘Course darlin’,” she replied easily, running fingers through his hair to ease the suds out. “Any time you’re needin’ it.” She poured a little more water into his hair, cupping her hand above his eyes to keep it from getting in them. “Recovery’s nay bein’ a straight line after all. Just dinnae delay askin’ so long your hair’s bein’ a massive oil slick, hm?”

He laughed and his hand rose, trembling, reaching out for hers. She met him at his shoulder level, and she laughed as he managed to bring her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back.

* * *

“…Hilda’s sayin’ I should be goin’ to the Steppe for a bit,” she murmured softly, her fingers running through the longer hair. “That I’m needin’ to be gettin’ ‘way from all this.”

She reached out for the bar of shampoo sitting nearby and lathered her hands back up. Thancred remained as he had been when she came in to wash his hair, a silent shell. “The Mol would be bein’ happy to be seein’ me ‘gain, and they’d be keepin’ me safe. Like they’re doin’ for…” She blinked back tears and shook her head, fingers scrubbing at his scalp.

“Liam’s still flirtin’ with Yugiri,” she said instead, voice taking on a false brightness. “She’s understandin’ one word in ten, so I’m nay sure he’s doin’ a very good job at it. I’m offerin’ to be translatin’ for him, but he’s just goin’ all red and sayin’ he can be doin’ it himself.” She imagined him laughing in response, perhaps giving his own offer of help. It had been an endless amusement between them, her twin brother’s flailing in the matters of love.

“And Connor’s bein’ quite well known ‘mongst Clan Centurio lately, bringin’ in quite a few S ranks. ‘Tis one of his better ways of copin’ lately.” She wiped her hands on a towel and got the water, murmuring about rinsing before starting. “There was bein’ a wee dust up at the Arcanists’ Guild, somehow Arthur was gettin’ kitchen duty. Long story bein’ short, he was makin’ puddin’ and the aetherochemistry department’s bein’ mad at him ‘gain. Gettin’ tired of bein’ sent samples of his cookin’. Araki’s wantin’ to be namin’ it Madge.”

It was all she could do for them, she thought to herself, looking over the rest of the downed Scions. She still needed to wash Alisaie’s hair. She sighed and went back to Thancred’s, cupping her hand to stave off the water from running into his ears, his eyes, even if it didn’t really matter.

“I cannae be waitin’ for you to be wakin’ up,” she murmured, fingers searching for any remaining soap. “You’re already missin’ too much, dinnae need to be missin’ any more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also unctious is a terrible word.


	26. Broken Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter I'm most nervous about posting. I am legit concerned I will get angry comments on this and I do not want to deal with that. So I am copying the disclaimer I put on the original tumblr post. Please keep this in mind going forward. Emphasis has been added.
> 
> "I would warn for 3.5 spoilers but it’s a walking spoiler now, so. _This is not a Lyse-sympathetic fic._ I have a lot of complicated emotions regarding her reveal that I’ve been wrestling with for the past two years and they’re not always kind ones. And this is never addressed in the narrative that I’ve seen. This bothers me. It bothers me a lot.
> 
> All this to say: If you like Lyse, you may want to skip this one."

Brigid stood at the window in the now empty bar in Mor Dhona, hands clasped at her back. She watched as the stragglers, both of battle and of the day, make their way across the square. Thancred had tucked the wee one into bed and gone to his own. Brigid meanwhile needed a moment, just to work through her feelings.

And then the door opened. She grit her teeth and clenched her hands together.

“Brigid?”

“Miss Hext,” she replied as neutrally as possible.

There was a beat of time. “Not Dorn anymore?” Lyse asked, coming only just into Brigid’s field of view.

“_Yda_ was bein’ Dorn.” Punch, as she had always been fond of her fists. “You, Miss Hext, dinnae have a name from me.” Save perhaps _bréagadóir_. Liar. “I dinnae know you ‘nough to be givin’ you a name, you’re seein’.”

“Of course you know me!” she protested, coming up to Brigid’s side, large blue eyes looking up at Brigid. They were hurt, but Brigid found herself unable to care.

“I’m knowin’ the lass I was workin’ with for years. The lass who was confusin’ me and Liam, Matsu and Araki, Alisaie and Alphinaud. The lass who was first to be puttin’ herself ‘tween all of us and Crystal Braves.” Brigid kept her eyes fixed on the window, not looking at Lyse. “Her name was bein’ Yda. You’re bein’ Lyse. I’m nay knowin’ Lyse.”

“That was me!” she insisted. “I did all that!”

Brigid sighed, shaking her head. “You were lyin’ ‘bout your name. And if ‘twas all ‘twas, I wouldnae be mindin’. I really wouldnae. I’m understandin’ the need to be lettin’ go of painful things, and names are bein’ some of the most painful things.” She thought of poor Sammy, running from a painful childhood. “But you were lyin’ ‘bout _who_ you’re bein’, the core of yourself. I’m already seein’ the simple, happy go lucky lass isnae who you’re really bein’. By the Twelve, ‘tis showin’ _in your voice_!”

“Urianger _just_ lied to you!” Lyse all but yelled, and was about to continue when Brigid spoke over her.

“_Urianger_ has never hidden who he’s bein’. I’ve long known the sort of lad he is. Who’ll lie ‘bout his _actions_, ‘bout what he’s _knowin’_.” She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “Doin’ very well livin’ up to the mysterious academic tropes, isnae he? ‘Tis who he is, and he’s nay ever been hidin’ it from any of us. So dinnae even try to be sayin’ what he was doin’ for a few moons is bein’ anythin’ like what you were doin’ for _years_.” She moved away from the window and made her way to the door. “If you’ll be ‘xcusin’ me, I’m needin’ to be talkin’ to Thancred ‘bout this, findin’ out why _he_ wasnae sayin’ anythin’ to me.”

“It wasn’t his place! It wasn’t _anyone’s_ place and he knew it! It was for me to tell!”

“Were you ever plannin’ on tellin’ me the truth? Your name, showin’ me your real personality?” Brigid finally fixed her gaze on Lyse, looking over her shoulder and locking eyes with the other woman.

“Of course I was!”

“Why should I be trustin’ you on that, Miss Hext? You’ve only ever lied to me ‘fore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just please remember: I don't hate Lyse. I hate the writing that surrounds her and it's upsetting.


	27. We've Really Been Drugged Way Too Much in This Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 26: Slosh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content warning for discussion of drink tampering and testing of drinks.**

Over the years each one of the Warriors had become a bit… phobic of drinks. Feli’s was the worst, and poor Sammy had originally been the one asked to see Nanamo at the start of the Bloody Banquet. Instead it had been Araki, and they didn’t think he would ever be able to drink red wine again.

For a time if William hadn’t personally overseen the preparation of any drinks the family received he _would not_ allow them to have it. A carefully hidden stain in the Fortemps manor’s dining room was a testament to that fact, a day when William had all but torn a cup of tea out of his sister’s hand.

Suffice to say, William had almost full run of the kitchen for the first few moons they were in Ishgard, and only trusted Haurchefant to prepare drinks unwatched.

It was a very long time before any of them were able to lower their guard, especially after Brigid had been the one to be drugged just before the talks between Ishgard and the Dravanians. It was a miracle the woman survived not just Emmanellain’s panicked orders but the wrath of seven Warriors of Light and a _very_ enraged Thancred as well. Brigid had only looked at her sadly, child in her arms. “I’m still nursin’,” was all she said before walking out.

It took Arthur and Llewellyn collaborating on some alchemical process to develop a proper test for all the possible concoctions that could be used to drug or poison any one of them before they all finally relaxed. (Except for Feli, at least.) A small tablet, yellow in color, that they would drop into their drink. Allow it to sit (though most of the time they all sloshed their drinks around to speed things up) and fish it back out. If it remained unchanged, the drink was safe. If it turned black… well.

At least no one was found collapsed on the floor for reasons unrelated to being piss drunk anymore.


	28. Droning On and On and On...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 27: Palavar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Spoilers for all of 5.0 MSQ. Please complete Shadowbringers before reading this. **
> 
> Also this is cracky as hell. Please do not take anything other than Bri's hatred of Lahabrea, Emet-Selch, and Thordan seriously.

“Okay okay, wait.”

“Aye, Araki?”

“You’ve called him an idiot every day since you met him, you haven’t believed the first word out of his mouth, called him a lair straight to his face.”

“Aye, Emet-Selch’s a liar, was this ever bein’ in question?”

“And it’s that _Lahabrea was the Speaker of this city you refuse to believe is real_ is the thing you ended up believing?”

“You were meetin’ him, you’re rememberin’ how he was dronin’ on and on, nay ever shuttin’ up.”

“‘Til Thordan wus killin’ ‘im.”

“Kill stealin’ bastard.”

“I would think he was my kill, technically.”

“Aye darlin’ but you werenae bein’ there, and so ‘twas fallin’ on me.”

“Can we focus?”

“…‘Tis sorry I am, Matsu.”

“You’ve been going on about how you want… ugh Arthur what’s the phrase?”

“Independent verification.”

“Right, that. You want that before you trust anything, but _that’s_ the thing you trust him on?”

“Was I bein’ the only one stayin’ ‘wake durin’ Gaius’s ranting long ‘nough to be hearin’ the other one start up? Goin’ on and on, nay sayin’ anythin’ important, just goin’ on like he was bein’ in love with his voice?”

“What was the Heart of Sabik? The Padjal have never heard of it.”

“I’m nay havin’ any idea.”

“I couldn’t find anything about it in the Arcanists’ Guild library. Feli, anything from Ishgard?”

“No.”

Araki sighed and wished he could find the nearest flat surface to bang his head against. He _hated_ days where he was the one that could focus and none of the others could.


	29. Home Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 28: Attune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of the For The Dancing and the Dreaming AU.
> 
> Airgaed means "silver" and is pronounced "ah-re-gat."

Brigid stood up straight from where she had been gathering seeds. It was a hot, muggy day in the Shroud and she was about done with it, truth be told. She wiped her forehead and let out a tired breath, putting away her tools and harvest into her pack. She hummed softly to herself as she pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her hands clean of soil and leaves, making a point to clean out from under her nails.

As she placed the cloth back in her pack she smiled to herself and pulled out a simple ring. It wasn’t much, a silver band in the form of leaved vines with an emerald in the middle forming a rose, but it was perfect for the two of them, and it faintly thrummed with her husband’s aether. Her smile went almost lovestruck as she held it up to her lips, kissing it lightly to activate the teleportation spell. Brigid grinned as she was enveloped in the aether, knowing exactly where she would be taken.

* * *

Iolaire groaned and ran his fingers through his hair, the tie long disappeared in his frustration. Why had he ever thought he wanted to run a Free Company? The paperwork alone was a trial, much less having to manage the people. At least he could delegate _that_ out, but that paperwork…

He sat back in his chair, sighing softly and closing his eyes. Maybe his assistants were right, perhaps he should take a break.

The faint but growing hum of aether was his only warning before he found himself with a lap full of wife and he relaxed instantly. He laughed as he felt arms drape over his shoulders, wrapping his own around her waist and pulling her closer against him. “Good day, my heart,” he murmured as he leaned down to take her lips in a soft kiss, one hand coming up to rest under her chin and gently guide it where they both wanted her.

She hummed into it before moving to nuzzle his jaw and mouth at an earclasp. “Hello, Airgaed,” she whispered. “Gettin’ bogged down in the paperwork ‘gain?”

He shivered and smiled, hand curling around her hip. “You’re just in time, I’m told I’m due for a break.” He chased down her lips and they both smiled into the kiss, curling closer together.

“Mm, good. I’m havin’ some aches I’m needin’ me… _personal healer_ to be tendin’ to. I was workin’ so very hard today, you’re seein’, and me back is just _achin’_.” She laughed as his hand slid down to the small of her back and she felt a faint tingle of healing aether. “Takin’ such good care of me,” she murmured against his lips, the two of them laughing as they continued to kiss.

“I love you,” he breathed into her mouth, and she shuddered. “How could I do any less?”

“I love you too,” she gasped out, letting him press her down onto an empty expanse of the table. “I wouldnae be ‘pectin’ less.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy patchmas! Enjoy your double whammy of Bri/Iolaire content!


	30. A Bad Mood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 29: Frustration (Free day/extra credit)

Arthur rested his head on the table and groaned loudly, not even bothering to twitch his head when Matsu took a moment to pet it. “Still nothing?” he asked, setting a cup of tea down.

“I hate essays,” Arthur grumbled in response, lifting his head just enough for his chin to rest on the table, glaring at the cup. His glasses were off so his eyes were squinting. “It’s a purely mathematics class, why are we doing essays?”

“Theory is important, I suppose,” Matsu replied, giving Arthur’s hair one last pet before returning to the kitchen.

“Then put it in a separate theory class,” Arthur called back, eyes never leaving the steaming cup of tea. It was a brown cup. Since when did they own a _brown_ cup? Where was his preferred mint green with dots? He scowled at it and pushed it away. He knew it was dumb but it was just one of those days where nothing was right.

The pounding headache behind his temples wasn’t helping either.

“Where’s Aki?” he asked before dropping his head back on the table properly.

“Emergency commission out in Gridania, he won’t be back for a day or two,” was the reply, which was far too… ‘okay with it’ sounding than Arthur much cared for.

Look words were hard, okay?

“Better not be another cradle,” he muttered. “Last one of those he did he wanted to make a bed for the carbuncles.” Or carve a chicken figurine, and Arthur had the horrible suspicion he’d planned to paint the thing green before _that_ compulsion passed.

“Better a carbuncle bed than when he wanted to make a full bed for us instead of doing the sensible thing and pushing the two smaller ones together,” Matsu pointed out, and this time he sounded far too logical for even Arthur’s liking.

Speaking of bed…

“I think I’m going back to bed,” he grumbled, closing his book and barely remembering to cap his ink before standing.

“I’ll call you when lunch is ready,” Matsu promised, and Arthur huffed. “Or I can leave it in the coldbox?”

“Just drop the cheery attitude when you do,” was the only thing Matsu got in response as Arthur shut the door. Matsu sighed and shook his head.

“Arthur and his moods,” he said to himself as he continued prepping ingredients for both lunch and dinner, setting a few aside to be preserved. Well, at least he was used to them and they were very much few and far between now. And he got apologies, which Arthur was notoriously bad at.

Maybe he would let him prepare an apple or two for baking later that evening, if his mood had improved. That would be rather nice, wouldn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Arthur fighting off a meltdown? Kinda, yeah. Routine disruption, happens to us all.


	31. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 30: Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **SHADOWBRINGERS SPOILERS THROUGH TO THE END OF 5.0. IF YOU HAVE NOT COMPLETED EVERYTHING PRIOR TO 5.1 PLEASE FINISH THAT FIRST.**

“When was the last time I kissed you under the stars?” Thancred asked, arm braced against the wall as he peered down at Brigid.

She laughed and rested against the wall as well, eyes twinkling like the stars he always compared them to. “Oh, last night I’m thinkin’,” she replied, voice coy. It was so much better than the short words and harsh looks he’d had to endure (though well-deserved, he admitted) since shortly before the fight against Titania up to just before Malikah’s Well. “And the night ‘fore that.”

He laughed in return and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “And the night before that,” he agreed. He nuzzled at her temple and she laughed again, playfully pressing herself closer to the wall, making him chase after her.

He followed, body pressed against hers, soft and warm, and he cupped her cheek with half-gloved hands. “And just after the Well,” he added, leaning in to hover his lips just out of reach of hers.

Said lips quirked in a smirk. “Oh aye, I’m rememberin’ that one.” They breathed as one, and it felt like the first time in forever that they had done so. “And ‘fore that was…”

She stilled, a sudden shudder under him, and he pulled back enough to look at her properly. “Before that…”

The twinkle was gone from her eyes and she looked to the floor of her room in the Pendants. “Was just ‘fore you were… comin’ here.”

Only a few heartrending moons for her, five heart _destroying_ years for him. He leaned in to kiss her cheek and his hand moved to tilt her face back up to his, locking eyes with hers. “Then we should make up for lost time,” he whispered, watching her closely.

She smiled, even if it was a weak one, and one arm rose to drape over one of his shoulders. “Aye, we should,” she whispered in return, a hint of playfulness returning to her voice.

And so Thancred leaned in for a proper kiss, a kiss from a man starved of his beloved, relishing in the sweetness of her lips, free hand easily slipping past the hem of her tunic. A celebration of the return of night to Norvrandt, a celebration of the return of the other, a celebration of _living_, next to the open window, letting the starlight stream in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Thank you to everyone who commented, kudo'd, reblogged, or otherwise encouraged me these past two months, either here or on tumblr! Here's looking forward to NaNoWriMo (god help) and then 2020!


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